


Les Amis Beach Party

by Hammie



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammie/pseuds/Hammie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan wants to build a sand castle; Enjolras thinks that this romanticizes monarchy. Somehow everyone is able to come to an agreeable solution in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Les Amis Beach Party

It had been Courfeyrac’s idea to go to the beach, and surprisingly, everyone had agreed that it was a good idea. Joly had been slightly hesitant until Musichetta started telling him about her new bikini, which Courfeyrac later informed her was a stroke of genius, and incidentally, did it really tie on with strings? This earned him A Look from Joly, which he mentally counted as a victory.

They were all delighted that Enjolras had decided to accompany them, even though he refused to wear anything different to how he normally dressed and did not swim. He sat underneath the wide umbrella Grantaire had set up, leaning back in his beach chair and managing somehow to look very important as he rested his feet on the edge of Grantaire’s towel, which was covered in pictures of pin-up girls.

Grantaire himself was beside himself that Enjolras deigned to share his towel, and was lounged on it smugly with a bottle of something gold-colored in one hand. The was a chunk of lime stuck in the top of it, and he took sips from it in between wolfish grins at any passing women, who were all uniformly horrified by both his lustful stares and unflattering swimwear.

Joly and Musichetta were on a towel next to them. Joly was refusing to sit down on it and telling Musichetta in increasingly panicked tones of voice how much bacteria there was in sand, until Musichetta pulled a large bottle of hand sanitizer out of her bag, at which point he kissed her deeply and consented to sit. Courfeyrac gave him a thumbs-up, which Joly pointedly ignored. Shrugging, Courfeyrac turned to Enjolras and Grantaire with a grin. 

“Oh well. I’m going to go get some ice cream, do either of you want anything?” Enjolras didn’t look up from his book, merely waving a hand in denial. Grantaire shook his head and held up his bottle, watching with obvious envy at the looks Courfeyrac got as he sauntered off in his too-small shorts.

Bossuet flopped down on Joly’s towel, making a face as he shook some sand out of his swim trunks.

“Do you know how much bacteria is in sand?” Joly inquired conversationally, brushing some of it off the towel with his fingertips.

“No, and I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you, considering some of the places I’ve got sand in right now,” Bossuet replied grimly. Musichetta gave him a look of amused fondness over Joly’s shoulder.

“Poor thing. Do you want me to put some sunscreen on your head? It’s getting a bit pink.”

Bossuet lifted a hand to touch his already-burnt bald spot and swore good-naturedly.

“Really, Laigle, there are ladies present,” Bahorel supplied with a grin, giving Bossuet a friendly punch on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later, this volleyball game looks like it’s shaping up to be good.” He left.

Bossuet took “shaping up to be good” to mean “shaping up to involve punching”. The raised voices coming from the volleyball pitch a few minutes later told him he was right.

“I hope he doesn’t get any really horrible injuries,” Combeferre remarked, looking up from his detailed sketch of the starfish Jehan had pointed out to him in a tide pool. “I didn’t think to bring my first aid kit from the car.”

“Do you think he might?” Jehan asked curiously, looking up from where he was crouched, half-out of the surf, with the legs of his bathing costume rolled up past his knees. His tone of voice indicated that Bahorel being on the receiving end of a horrible volleyball-related injury would be an exciting adventure.

Before Combeferre had time to answer, Courfeyrac distracted them both. “Prouvaire, what are you wearing? No, on second thought, don’t tell me. Have either of you seen Pontmercy?” He was standing behind Combeferre with one hand on his hip, gazing at the crowds of people near the boardwalk. Combeferre suspected this had less to do with looking for Marius and more to do with the large numbers of attractive ladies in bikinis.

“Pontmercy?” 

“Yes, you know. Lost-looking fellow with the long face, has boring opinions?” Courfeyrac prompted.

“I know who he is,” Combeferre said, pulling a face. “I just didn’t know he was here. We hardly see him any more.”

“He is in love,” Jehan supplied helpfully, dipping an interesting rock into the water to better get a look at its color.

“He is in stalk,” Courfeyrac corrected with a cheerful smile. “But if neither of you have seen him, I suppose I will seek him elsewhere.” He wandered off, pausing to give his ice cream suggestive licks when ever a girl walked by.

“He’s shameless,” Grantaire observed, giving the crowd which had begun to surround Courfeyrac a spiteful look. 

“Yes,” Enjolras replied, not looking up from his notes. “Not like you.”

Grantaire scowled and chewed on his lime.

“I think we should make a sand castle,” Jehan announced, splashing in out of the waves with a handful of shells and rocks. “I’ve found some wonderful decorations for it.”

“That does sound like fun,” Musichetta agreed, taking Joly and Bossuet by the arm and leading them to where Jehan and Combeferre were crouched. Jehan was using a piece of driftwood to outline where things were going to go, and Combeferre was watching him with fond amusement. 

“One of us should get Bahorel!” said Courfeyrac, returning with Marius trailing distractedly after him. 

“I will,” offered Feuilly, placing his own book next to Enjolras and getting up. A few moments later he returned with a slightly bruised Bahorel, who was sulking about having a really good game interrupted. 

“I had him in a headlock!” He informed Feuilly, who patted him sympathetically on the arm.

They all gathered around the area Jehan had outlined, offering opinions and arguments about what ought to go where. Enjolras had put down his book and was watching them with a small frown.

“Prouvaire,” he said finally, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look up. “Building sand castles normalizes and romanticizes monarchy. Romanticizing monarchy does a terrible disservice to the people who are oppressed by it.”

There was a pause. “Perhaps a sand… public meeting house?” Combeferre suggested, glancing back at the castle.

“Oh,” Jehan said, distraught. “I’ve already done the crenelations.”

“It can be a crenelated public meeting house,” Courfeyrac told him, grinning at Enjolras. “Is that all right with you, glorious leader?”

“That seems perfectly fair,” Enjolras agreed, covering a smile with one hand and moving to sit on the sand next to them. He began advising Combeferre on the use of driftwood to reenforce the walls.

Grantaire sulked on his towel, his drink forgotten. “I don’t know why you’re bothering.” He snorted, gesturing at the incoming tide. “It’s only going to get washed away anyway. It’s a waste of time.”

“All things are fleeting!” Jehan replied cheerfully, as Enjolras placed the leaf that was serving them as a flag on the top tower. Marius dug a moat around it to somewhat delay the inevitable tide, and Musichetta offered the use of her lipstick to make the flag red.

Grantaire grumbled to himself, but surreptitiously documented the event on his camera phone. 

They all agreed afterward that the trip had been a huge success. Even Bossuet, who had been attacked by seagulls. 

~THE END~


End file.
